Golden
by Starlit Sea
Summary: Greek Mythology/Tragedies AU. Of rotten apples that once were golden -a gloomy lyre-player, a contest for the most beautiful of all, the story of a mother and many more.
1. Eurydice and Orpheus

**A/N: So, this is based on the Greek myth of Eurydice and Orpheus: Orpheus, a young lyre-player is deeply in love with the nymph Eurydice and together they live happily. Unfortunately, tragedy strikes with the death of Eurydice, who, trying to escape from a lustful satyr (Aristaeus), is bit by a viper. Orpheus loses himself in mourning and grieving, but receives help from the Gods -they've missed listening to his joyful music- who urge him to seek Hades, the King of the Underworld. Orpheus is asked by Hades and Persephone to play them a song. Moved by the nostalgic tune, they allow Eurydice to return to the upper world, under one condition; Orpheus will walk ahead of her and he won't look behind him to see if she follows, or else Eurydice will remain in the Underworld. Eurydice, in the form of a shadow, walked behind him, yet Orpheus couldn't hear her footsteps and thought Hades had deceived him. Once he reached the top, Orpheus turned around to look at her, only for Eurydice to be sucked into the Underworld once again. Orpheus, in his severe depression, turns into a misogynist thus enraging all the women in Thrace, including the Maenads, the loyal followers of Dionysus. The Maenads mutilated him, each torn limb thrown in the shores of the river Evros. The Muses gathered his members, but his head and lyre were taken away by the currents, reaching Lesbos. The locals buried his head, while the Muses took his lyre and turned it into a constellation.  
**

 **There are many different alterations of the myth and honestly, I just want you to know some basic facts about them; if you're interested you can PM me and I'll gladly respond to you!**

* * *

 _"Eurydice, dying now a second time, uttered no complaint against her husband. What was there to complain of, but that she had been loved?"_

 _-Ovid_

 ** _Farewell_**

 ** _ _ **(For this fic, I recommend you listen to "Poet and The Muse" by Poets of the Fall.)**__**

 **ooo**

Music calmed him, his perfect stance loosening, his perfect face cracking with emotions each time his fingertips brushed with divine deftness the strings of his gilded lyre *****. And he crooned his lyrical tunes, the sweetest noise he had ever heard.

He loved music because music was his.

He never listened to what others said, blabbering about, conspicuous hushes behind palms, how the Gods had endowed such a blessing to someone so-

He didn't care what they called him.

Their opinions weren't of import to his ears anyway -what did they even know about music?

Until he met her, his beautiful Muse, his _Yui_ , Shu never cared for anyone.

She had swayed her way into his life like a gentle breeze; her kindness had hit him like the roaring wind.

Like a nymph, she danced to the sounds of nature, her bare feet bearing a carefree elegance to every clumsy step.

She dwelled in the land, in the wilderness and slept in an oak bed ***** with pillows of fresh flowery and yet her giggles reminded him of cascades.

He had resented her, envying the freedom of her limbs and how careless was her laughter. He despised how she hummed his songs as she gathered her flowers, her mind and body lost in a blissful reverie. He loathed how she made her flimsy gown twirl in the air, her ringlets bouncing with an ethereal grace every time she moved.

He had hated her, for she never surrendered to his demands to be left alone. In every path he took, she would follow behind with a glowing face, her lashes touching her flushed cheeks and her lips smiling like a lovesick fool.

They were walking in a silent pathway one evening with a starry sky when they had been suddenly approached by the cries and screams for help from a hamlet in close proximity and soon, they discovered the smoke and flames.

With blank eyes, Shu had watched in silence how the gluttonous red devoured the houses and the woods, the pyres enveloping the village in a stygian ***** feast. Sweat had covered his burning forehead, his pulsing heart producing deafening beats in his ears, his hands that protected his lyre trembling along with his body.

Behind him, the girl was crying in agony, praying for the father of the skies ***** to help; heavy rainfall broke through the tempestuous clouds, bringing the catharsis.

He didn't see nor feel nor hear the change in the atmosphere, the smoke engulfing all his senses and leaving him standing frozen in his spot.

His body vibrated thunderously, as the sense to hear properly his surroundings abruptly plummed him with the piercing shouts of his name.

 _"Shu! Shu!"_

His heart played its own music, the notes scattered carelessly and unceremoniously, the beat lost in an intricate web; then it hit the crescendo, his heartbeat quickening, accelerating, pounding with such force that terrorised his body, his vision... slowly... blackening...

The warmth of fervent sun rays greeted him, the sudden light blinding him with an intense whiteness; he let out a hoarse groan, his palm cradling automatically his frowning forehead.

A hearty giggle followed, the sound similar to the soft _ting_ of his fingers on the strings, as a foreign set of smooth hands roved his head and neck until they landed on his chest.

His eyes opened again with a protesting grudge, aquamarine widening at the smiling pair of melting, pink irises. His vision was still rather blurry and he had to blink repeatedly before remaining still and calm, tiredly scrutinising the merry girl with the sunlit eyes. Had she always radiated such warmth? She sat beside him, her figure outlined by the flaming ball resting behind the mountaintops; he remembered the fire of the previous night and his fist gripped leisurely on her wrist in fear the sun would smoulder and eat her.

They had never talked about the fire, instead, they had continued travelling -side by side.

He didn't speak much most of the time, allowing the girl to chatter freely, describing her interests. She loved nature, he learned one day as they strolled through a bluebell pathway, her slender fingers twirling nervously a stray, shimmering curl. He also learned why her feet shied away from the protection of shoes: _"how could I feel the soil, the roots of trees and flowers that grow and bloom, then?"_

He was mesmerised by her and he hadn't comprehended when that had happened; he realised it during an affluent festivity, as he sang the tune he had just composed, a piece evoking the sublime beauty of nature, the perfect completion the lonely soul felt while gazing at the crocus and lily flowers.

She taught him what freedom was and she hadn't use any needless words; her movements and gentle gestures spoke through her. She would take his hand and they would dance, barefoot of course, and for the first time in his life, Shu felt the earth, the pebbles, the water, the leaves. She had inspired him with a new air of freshness, his fingers itching to touch the lyre, his voice moaning to sing of nature, to sing of her, Yui.

He wasn't the best lyre-player anymore and she wasn't the girl everyone desired to attain.

Just Shu and Yui. Yui and Shu.

They married during the flourishing Spring when the wilderness was lush and the grass cool and green. The ceremony was small, consisting of close relatives and the few friends they had made along the way. Yui was dressed in her finest, ribbons hanging from buds and jewels circling her arms and legs in golden bracelets. A flimsy stole and a crown of natural aromas shrouded her face, Shu longing to bask in the pink gleam of her eyes.

They couldn't be any happier and content. Every time they held hands, the sun shone even brighter, every time they embraced, the earth would shake, every time they only lied on the ground, their bodies bathing in the moonlight, their life didn't need anything else.

Shu was watching lovingly Yui partaking with some loosely-dressed women in a fluid dance ***** , as he devoted her a special serenade when he saw them, his father and his brothers.

Except for Subaru, his youngest sibling and Edgar, his closest friend, the rest of his family had not received an invitation to their wedding.

But Yui had seemed so elated when they introduced themselves and Shu couldn't bring himself to sadden her by forbidding them entrance.

Shu knew his family. He knew how they would mask their disappointment and how they would cruelly later reveal their displeasure. They were crude people, yes; but, they were wealthy too. The rich strangers that came to their house, their palace of gold and crimson, they would never wish to see beneath the surface, to learn the horrific truths that lied under the barrels of red wine.

Shu had instructed Yui to be careful with them, nonetheless. Warning her of his mischievous blood-brother, Reiji, the sinister Ayato, the salacious Laito and the unbalanced Kanato. With a swift glance at his side, Subaru and Edgar kept an eye on Yui as well.

Shu resumed watching Yui giggle gleefully as she and her companions danced; his fingers almost twitched on the strings of his lyre when Ayato and Laito approached their female group.

His father had made a toast, _"To the newlyweds!"_

 _"To the newlyweds!"_ had repeated the crowd, although small they had managed to block his view, his eyes missing Yui, who in her haste she drifted further and further away from a green-eyed man.

Yui's cold body was found under the setting sun, her ankles gravely punctured and bitten by vipers.

He continued living with an ache in his heart and guilt clouding his mind, the lone traveller chasing party after party, yet all the tunes he played and the songs he sang were slow and melancholic.

Now, the wealthy ones still gossiped behind palms, the news of the charismatic musician reaching every ear, as their wine-scented mouths beseeched him on their knees, pleading for the revival of his old songs, the ones where the notes chimed like the wind, the ones that brought an ecstasy to their gatherings.

Once, he tried to regain his passionate music, only resulting in a woman's youthful laugh to flow in the air, causing him to lose his tempo, a crow-like cry strumming from his fingers.

Karlheinz was undeniably mad beneath that collected veneer he had sported when one, plump noble had informed him of his son's deplorable acts.

Gold had slanted like glass shards, his lips thin, yet curving upwards. He glanced to the side where his second eldest stood, wearing a similar expression.

* * *

There was no moon gleaming in the sky tonight, only the purple galaxy and the stars.

Under their light lied the verdant vastness, sans for the glimmer of a blue lagoon and the two silhouettes dancing by.

Both unshod, a pair of sheet-white feet on top of another, an arm possessively tightened around a slender waist, the other hand cupping a smaller palm, as a weightless head of blonde curls was nestled in his chest; his mouth hummed the music.

"Are you happy, Shu?"

"What a foolish question you're asking, you bothersome thing..."

She giggled, dryly.

"If I was so bothersome, you wouldn't have done what you did... would you?"

Sensing the strain in her limbs, he stroked soothing circles on her back.

"Do you regret it?"

"I'm not capable of offering you my warmth anymore..."

"Idiot... You can't see me nor can you move as freely as you used to anymore either, but that doesn't stop from anything, right?"

"I suppose."

As Shu finished murmuring, he cradled Yui in his arms, motioning to sit on the cool grass.

"Say, do you think we will be missed up there, Shu?"

"I don't know... nor do I really care. But you, little girl, you had quite the epilogue, don't you think?"

"Oh, being chased down by my husband's brother and ultimately embracing death by the venomous bite of a viper and all of that in my wedding day to the love of my life! Please, don't remind me! What about you, Shu, do you think you had a fitting end?"

"More like, I was forced upon one... not that I regret it. They did push me to the edge, but it was my choice to lie next to you."

The remained as they were for a while, undisturbed by the buzzing sounds of the cicadas.

"Hey, Shu?"

"Hm?"

"We had quite the tragedy, didn't we? The lonely maiden that was swept off her feet by a kind prince with a shining lyre!"

"Or, the lonely maiden that decided to experiment with the kind prince's lyre and created such a ruckus that woke him from his sleep."

They shared a laugh.

"I was lonely too, you know..."

"Yeah, I do. We saved each other from our loneliness, huh?"

"It seems like we did."

 **ooo**

 **A/N: Well, crap. I did it.** **Kill me, love me, hate me, I really don't care. Just review me cause I need motivation.**

 **The title, _Farewell_ , refers to a line from Ovid's Metamorphoses concerning Eurydice's second death (it's also the continuation of the quote from above): **

**_"_** _ **She spoke a last 'farewell' that, now, scarcely reached his ears, and turned again towards that same place."**_

 ***gilded lyre: Appollo gave Orpheus a golden lyre.**

 ***oak bed: Some believe Eurydice was an oak nymph (hamadryad?). Also, I wanted to portray her potential relationship with the wilderness and the land, so I made Yui experiencing the sublime of nature.**

 ***the father of the skies: Zeus, God of thunder.**

 ***stygian flames: Stygian means infernal, but I wanted to preserve the roots of the original myth which is set in Ancient Greece. Styx is the chthonic goddess and personification of the river Styx, which is said to be the portal to the Underworld.**

 ***loosely-dressed women in a fluid dance: Ovid says that Eurydice died not because she was being hunted down by the satyr, but because she had danced with naiads in her wedding. As naiads are nymphs found near bodies of fresh water, I chose 'fluid' as an adjective to 'dance' in order to give the impression of their closeness to streaming water.**

 **Please, if you want to learn more about the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, but other myths from Ancient Greece you can always PM me!**


	2. Persephone and Hades

**As you see, I've decided to continue this!**

 **The myth according to Homeric Hymn to Demeter: Persephone was gathering flowers in a meadow along with her friends, the daughters of Oceanus when Hades sees her. Instantly falling for her the girl, he asks permission from his brother, Zeus, who also happens to be her father, to marry the Kore. Amongst the blossoms, the most beautiful of all the narcissus (daffodil), which serves as a temptation to lure Persephone. As she takes the flower, a chariot of immortal horses led by Hades emerges and he steals her away, yet no one hears her cries of help -no one, but for Helios (Sun) and Hecate. When her mother, Demeter, realises her daughter is nowhere to be found, she panics, begging for answers soon. Hecate and Helios reveal to her te truth at last, that her daughter was taken by the King of the Underworld to rule by his side. Frustrated at Zeus and the Gods, Demeter leaves Olympus and because of her terrible grief, she is disfigured. She meets Celeus, Lord of Eleusis, but he and his daughters fail to recognise her, referring to her as an "old mother" and asking her for her identity. She lies to them, telling she seeks a job as a nurse and the daughters invite her to meet their mother, Metaneira. She is impressed by the stranger and allows her to nurse her infant son -as a token for the family's hospitality, Demeter decides to turn the boy into an immortal by anointing in ambrosia and immersing him in the fire. But, Metaneira, spying on her one night and seeing her child buried in the flames, laments loudly and causing the hidden Goddess to hear her. In her anger, she speaks of her plans and reveals herself as Demeter, her ageing face glowing once again with beauty. In order to relieve themselves from the Goddess' fury, Celeus assembled his people and they decided to build a temple in her honour. But, Demeter still longed for her daughter to return and in her mourning. she wreaked havoc in the mortal world by not letting the seeds to grow. Zeus, listening to the constant pleading of the famine-ridden humans, he sends Iris to Demeter, calling her to see him -yet she pays no mind to his persuasion and ignores all the offerings from the mortals. Only her daughter, she says, would make her happy again. Hearing this, Zeus now sends Hermes to the Underworld to ask from Hades to give Persephone back. He complies; bidding goodbye to his wife, he tricks her into eating the seeds of a pomegranate. She is reunited with her mother, who asks her if she consumed any food from the Underworld. The girl speaks the truth, how she was abducted by Hades and cried for help and how he had forced her to eat the seeds. Zeus sends another messenger to them, this time their mother Rhea, who managed a comprise: Persephone would spend a third of the year with Hades and the two thirds with Demeter. She obeys and in her joy, fruits rise from the dry earth.**

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 _"Be to her, Persephone,_  
 _All the things I might not be;_  
 _Take her head upon your knee._  
 _She that was so proud and wild,_  
 _Flippant, arrogant and free,_  
 _She that had no need of me,_  
 _Is a little lonely child_  
 _Lost in Hell,—Persephone,_  
 _Take her head upon your knee;_  
 _Say to her, "My dear, my dear,_  
 _It is not so dreadful here."_  
 _― Edna St. Vincent Millay_

 **This chapter is dedicated to the lovely JustMyOpinion74**

 **(For this chapter I recommend listening to Shura no Hana by Meiko Kaji)**

 ** **Flower of Darkness****

 **ooo**

"And to Reiji, my second born, he shall sovereign too! In a land beneath our lands! Yet no! do not respect him any less nor taunt his possessions! The nether soil can be generous!" had promised Karlheinz during his coming-of-age, a gilded goblet of the reddest juice in his jewelled fingers.

"All hail King Reiji, Lord of the Underworld!"

And the boy was then presented, his forehead young, yet marred with shadowy creases.

"All hail King Reiji, Lord of the Underworld!" so the crowd repeated.

The words rang in his head, the sound not the carols his brother sung, but a noise as obnoxious as the cries of a strangled bird. His pretty mouth fell, a thin scowl that was grim, a brutality contrasting to the finesse of his posture.

The rich applauded, their gleeful eyes and laughing grins wavering in fright at the darkness of that mouth, yet their awful veneer cannot drop, for their veins had a blue-hued blood, but not as blue and pristine as their ruler's and his sons'.

Those eyes remembers still the King of the fearsome land, where his palace blackened by the shadows lies, yet not the scent of the flowery shroud, but the odour of death.

In his lonely tower, he sits, his throne of diamonds and coal bearing a whiteness as blinding as the shimmer of his canine fangs. His eyelids are sealed, yet slumber has not taken them yet, as his ears listen with idle interest the sounds from above.

His cheeks are plump no more, the bones are high and the angles strict and the scowling boy has grown into a man of doom and shades.

With limbs tired he walks, the Grim Reaper who lacked his dreadful scythe, and reaches the sun-kissed soil where Spring is vibrant with all her wilder beauty.

A figure black, but for the paleness of his skin and the scarlet of his eyes wades with a languid rhythm through amber meadows, the golden rays both a gift to the grains and a curse to his frail person.

He hears the waters of a river chiming through pebbles and there is the laughter of maidens too, deep-bosomed* virgins whose joy is spread with the same, flowing trill.

He steps behind a lush shrub, forlorn, lest the beauties bombard him with their incessant giggling like the swooning wrenches they are.

The King of the Underworld watches as they dance and laugh then ran away with an airy grace. The earth has still its healthy colour and there are stems of fallen violets and the wrinkled petals of lilies; in the centre of it all, the lone daffodil remains, with a long stem flourished with brilliant green and petals a chaste white.

His gaze is steady, yet his bosom heaves and then his brow is frowning, for no sweet smile of a bride was chosen by his flower. As he sighs, he lets a groan that is throaty and low, the finches and the sparrows nearby flying away.

Yet his awkward feet lead him to the glowing beauty and he kneels beside it.

The breeze billows the narcissus to his palm, the softness leaning to the hardened touch.

"You look beautiful, as always," whispers he, and it sounds so hushed, he himself cannot believe the words were spoken by a mouth so foul.

The flower brushes his hand with playful affection, yet the wind has not howled again.

One more he stands, the God of Wealth*, and within the lush woods he walks, bees buzzing in his ears, yet he does not mind; how could he, when there lies a lass, young and blooming, sleeping deeply in her violet bed.

He disapproves, yet he cannot disagree with the girl's delicate beauty.

"What a fool, sleeping thus unabashedly in the open," comments dryly the Lord, 'Has she not heard of my lecherous relatives?'

To the wind's frolick, the narcissus in splendour and in pomp it grows, with stems a green much brighter that frolick too around the beauty the lilies and the daisies as the ones her hair adorn blooming thus in the grace thus in number as hundreds!

As if sensing the vivid wild, the girl stirs and greets him roseate cheeks and a yawning mouth of petals as red as the ones she wears, the eyes dreamily still.

Alas, the heavy lids open their gates of lashes and the lone figure dwelling in the shadows is captivated by the brightness of her pinks, and the King is merry of the chosen bride the clever blossom picked.

"Hello, pretty flower!" she calls in a voice laced with cheer, "My, how much you've grown! And look at all these blossoms!"

He disapproves once more of her naivete, yet eyes blinded by beauty cannot stray from the prancing flower-girl.

'Such careless mortal! As her groom, I shall be the first to teach her discipline!'

Ιn the cold embrace of shadows, the Reaper looms, for the maid has a farewelling palm in the air, her adieu swift, yet dripping honey drops, ones he felt the daffodil ache for.

His flower's silent wails are billowed in his ears, for the noble daffodil grieves in woe for the daughter has disappeared and it is this lachrymose and sorrow the Lord of the Dead bears as he swears to return her and thus, the maddened search for herbs and balsams began.

On the same night, under a sky of indigo and the moon's ominous prime, the greedy King is bent over the aide of his flower and its lovely petals are now drenched and tainted with an aroma as sweet as the fruits of his gardens; of pomegranates.

Here she is the flower-daughter and her deep-bosomed band, their jovial play so far away from her father's brilliant sickle*, reaping lapfuls of crocuses and roses and jolly violets, irises and hyacinths*, and lonely of a company as she is, it is then she sees the beauteous plant that is tall and prominent amongst the lithe blossoms.

In trance, the maiden walks and the narcissus flares in such a glory, and as Pluton* feels the fingertips thus soft crawl on his own very skin, he knows he can bear this agony no more!

The soils are troubled by the chariot of immortal stallions that emerges from the abyss, yet the priest's daughter tends still to her pretty florae, blind and deaf to the clouds of ash and gold and the harsh echo of the reins that are furious with frenzy striking against fur as black as coal.

And with a scowl that had of yore, the dreadful King abducts the lovely girl and it is then Yui, the one who braids her flaxen hair with roses and saffron, despairs with loud cries, one clang for her feet that were taken from her homeland, a lament for the air that stole her gown and a last mourn for the violets that sprinkled upon the earth*.

A hand too strong for a youth thus weak in battle snakes around a slender waist to still the weeping girl, yet she fights against his power and the grasp grows more ferocious, a strength that is wild and untamed, the kind that can harm.

"You were chosen to become my wife by my father, to support me both as Queen and as my loyal spouse, the one who shall gift my blood with an heir."

Yet the blonde-haired daughter trembles both in fright and in desperation, for she is bare before his eyes.

"I do not wish for you to become my husband, nor I become your wife."

Her fear is a lovely tremor, the voice honeyed no more, yet blackened by a darkness the Lord of the Underworld can learn to love.

"A fool who does not possess the sense of hearing! Who is this girl I have been promised to?"

"Then take me back home, if I, who is deaf, do not make the appropriate wife!"

There is a redness that boldly crackles in the pink-eyed woman, a fire same as the pyres that guard his very throne.

"What an endearing sight you are, girl! A cub attempting to howl before its Master!"

"You are no Master to me!"

The scream echoes in the kingdom of endless shadows and the thunder's son erodes in blotching smoke, his lone cloak ripples on the whimpering bones.

Drowning in the depths of his royal garments, the fashion in which the charcoal wrapped on her shoulders with her legs nude underneath, the bride stood as a Queen.

He showers her with the jewels of his prosperous land and dresses her in the silks of Arachne*, yet she shies away to lock herself in the lightlessness of her chamber.

With an empty stomach the King left his Queen tonight, "She shall resist me no more, lest she wishes to starve!"

The fool, this bride of his; only an excellence in gastronomy and a marvel of beauty! And still, she dares to defy his Lordship!

And their dinner was prepared by his very own hands, fruits of exotic lands and wines of the ripest grapes, all borne from her world and served upon his golden platters, platters that would soon become hers as well.

The wrathful strides echo within the gloom of his palace, a mania to find his imprisoned Queen consuming him as a formidable passion. Yet, the sweet Spring's scent he chases is wafting not behind her doors, but frolicks on his Library's wing.

Unaware, the young beauty waded in a lion's den, where secrets hidden as treasures lay in inks and papers and there is dust of teas from the East and herbs too, and by his oak desk, a clock where time is lethargic and a book of Hecate's* chants with spells written on papyruses.

"Refrain from touching that, girl!"

In the name of a child's curiosity, to explore his writings, she tried, yet the flame of discovering that boiled as the fire beneath her feet died at her intended man's fury.

"I apologise, my betrothed, for I intruded your quarters."

The spark of living shines as a mere reflection of candle-light now and such a death, the one who guides men to their tombs had never seen.

"You are forgiven, yet make no mistake of my gratitude; a punishment, nor severe nor mild, must ensue."

Dully her head hangs, curls that no lustre have faintly bounce as she moves to intertwine their hands and the royal palm shakes in regret, for there are cinders with callouses underneath and the harsh lines of the ageing rule are smearing soot.

Double doors in gold creak open before their Majesties, a ballroom where the floors are freshly polished and the diamonds ornating the ceiling are flaring in brilliance with the candles upon the chandeliers.

"A Queen becoming to share my throne ought to be a marvellous dancer."

There is music playing from harps and lyres, yet no musicians nor songsters by their side and lonely as they were, the Rulers of the Underworld danced until the song changed and a new began and along a new dance began, one had their hands in the air, the other had them close to their waists.

"Why are your teeth so sharp?", the timid bride wondered when her back was buried in his chest in accord to their promenade's rhythm.

A tilt the dance did not require gave a tremble to his knees, because how would he ever explain to this little lamb his cuspids were to tear her skin apart?

"I am a creature of the darkness, my dearest Yui. In my land, the great Sun never graces me with His light. What your world offers your people cannot thrive here, what I need to live in health. As the Lord of this very soil, I am obliged to serve my Kingdom and grant their every whim, thus, I cultivated a garden for them, for me."

"A garden? Will I be able to see it one day?"

Ill-will he does not sense between her words, only the honest question of a girl whose mouth is innocent! unaware of the poisons and the seeds his lush shrubs grow.

"Only once you are crowned my Queen."

Defiant still she is, yet a throne of crystals before a kingdom of darkness tempts her pretty thoughts. Decorum she cannot be taught, yet for her groom, who barely sleeps and only reigns, for the pride of his father's words he longs to be, her labours are the only jewels he sees.

A Ruler of Greed, whom legends call calm, yet for his ambitions everything he shall do, is said with a priest's careless child he dances on evenings and during Nyx'* blackened time, they are found embraced beneath silken sheets; and their mornings now of jasmine and of mint they smell and their afternoons are the yellowed pages of ancient books and the warmth enveloping him in this Winter of awe from his fires it does not come, but from knowing it is her love he now owns.

Yet, warmth and sweet caresses and the evergreen Spring his flower-Queen could bring, the above by a frost unknown to man before is ruled and the clouds are so white and huge that the lovely green is tarnished by the falling snow and the lagoons of fragile ice they are made of and the pink of her eyes jolly is, yet sad, for the sight of the priest they miss. Still, by his side, she remains, with a Cap*, one that bears roses, upon her flaxen head.

Ayato, he who is the trickster* son, before the greedy man he stands and speaks of their patriarch's wish for the girl to her father is returned, who in his rage and sorrow, a havoc he has wreaked.

Behind the thrones, the curtains are by no hand drew and the Queen in her rich velvets she is dressed as a blooming iris with her cape her shoulders fair of skin it shrouds with black and she is whole dark as becoming of her royal seat, but for the dulled eyes and the white canines.

Unabashed, the great schemer flirts with his brother's formidable wife, yet with a whistle of her rosebud-lips, her three-headed hound* barks and he is sent away.

His wife is sitting on her throne and her reassuring is silent, but for her hand warming his; her husband is silent too, and she knows he is scheming, for there is a scowl on his thin lips and grim lines on his forehead.

A sigh he heaves and his eyes turn to the marvel by his side and suddenly, his grip urges her to stand.

And before the Queen of the Underworld, the Woman of Dread*, the jewel of his crown, before this Springtime blossom he kneels, the prince and King who only before his father he has ever knelt.

With his grip of steel around her trim wrist, he guides her where no mortal eyes have ever pried, where beauty can flourish within this darkness.

A green too bright greets her eyes and she smiles sweetly with tears, for there are trees of boisterous life; fruits red of skin and round in shape; blossoms that only during the night the can bloom and shrubs of thorned roses the most crimson of colour.

A pomegranate travels from his hand within the centre of her palms and in half in separates and its smell is splendid and hypnotic.

And he says to her, with a voice that hums with music, "My dear, my dear. My wife and my Queen. Tell me, for only the truth from your very lips I seek, was I a ghastly husband? Remember me, my torment, for yours I will always be. Remember, as you are caged within your mourn-robed father's embrace, everything you see, all this abyss, belongs to you. And lastly, I plead of you, my mercy, this lovely gift, a promise of mine to you, please take."

A cryptic smile lifts Reiji's pale lips and ruby seeds upon his wife's tongue he places and with a kiss on her forehead, the King bids farewell.

* * *

His wife is angry, a maenadic sheen of fury shining in her eyes and the God in his musings he celebrates, for it is brave pink staring back at him, yet he fears the Flower of Dread, for no such wrath of her the Lord knows.

"And you dare call your brother a sneaky plotter! You tricked me!"

"Yes, I did."

"Why", cries she in distress, "why would you do this?"

"It seems as if your mind is ever simple. Need I remind you of your place as my wife?"

She is far from where he stands, the little Queen whimpering in her corner, shadows that moaned in doom bursting at every drop of a tear; in pathos, she is curled and she is the same bony-shouldered girl wearing a cloak too big.

"My dear-"

"Don't, please..."

She is powerless and silently praying for loneliness, yet it is a feeling the Lord of the Dead cannot allow her to feel.

Massive is his shadow, blackness eating her sorry form as from above he watches and in an instant, besides his Queen, the King sits and in his arms, he gathers the wife who resists until she is pacified by her husband's sweet humming.

"Was I a ghastly husband? Tell me and I will let you go."

The tears are gone, yet left swollen red and her lips are plump and trembling as she kisses him with a smile, "And who would warm you should I left?"

* * *

 **A/N: I wish you enjoyed this! Feel free to comment and review!**

 **Speaking of reviews, JustMyOpinion74, the one to whom I've dedicated this chapter, and I had a conversation on both Greek mythology and guess what -reviewing. What I've seen in many stories I've read on /Ao3/Wattpad, some commenters have the audacity of using foul language, while simultaneously, begging for an update.**

 **HOW DARE YOU.**

 **Do you even know what an author has to go through when writing a story? A book of a fic, it doesn't matter -it demands self-dedication and we all have our personal lives to think of first. We can't just stop everything we do behind our keyboards and oblige to your every whim. Furthermore, to all the commenters -commenters because I'd rather get the plague than offering you the formidable value of being called a 'reviewer'- again; HOW DARE YOU. Why are you being mean for the sake of being mean just because there's something in a story that _you_ don't like? In case you forgot, allow me to remind you: authors are human beings as you are, we have feelings as you do and rude names and phrases such as 'BITCH' and 'F- YOU' only brings our confidence to shreds.**

 **Do you want our productivity? Then be patient, or communicate with us, POLITELY of course.**

 **There's something in the story that you don't like? Negative feedback is a thing too, as long as you put it POLITELY. Do you want an alternative solution? Move on without saying a thing; no one needs your bitterness.**

 **On the other hand, JustMyOpinion74 and I agreed that some people stray from reviewing.**

 **Are you shy and you don't want to share your opinion? Dear shy person reading this right now, please know there's nothing wrong with that :). You can always take the Anonymity option! Authors are like Tinkerbell -we need feedback to live. By reviewing, you take advantage of your right to freely express your opinion, share views with others and most of all, boost an author's confidence and will of continuing their story.**

 **YOU IS KIND. YOU IS SMART. YOU. IS. AN. IMPORTANT. REVIEWER.**

 **So please, next time you read a story and suddenly feel overwhelmed by emotions, REVIEW (in case you're interested, I'll be having this posted on my profile too, so others can re-post).**

 **:D :D :D :D**

 **ooo**

 ***deep-bosomed: Homer addresses the Oceanids in this manner.**

 ***God of Wealth, Pluton: Alternative names for Hades, Pluton means wealth.**

 ***lapfuls of crocuses and roses and jolly violets, irises and hyacinths: The flowers Homer mentions.**

 ***sickle: Demeter carries a golden sickle.**

 ***a lament for the air that stole her gown and a last mourn for the violets that sprinkled upon the earth: This is mentioned in Ovid's version of the story.**

 ***Arachne: Her name means spider. She was a talented weaver, who dared to challenge Athena. Realising her hubris, she hanged herself but was later turned into a spider to weave her webs forever.**

 ***Hecate: She is a Goddess strongly related to witchcraft and sorcery.**

 ***Nyx: Goddess of the night, her name means night.**

 ***Cap: The Cap of Invisibility.**

 ***the trickster: Hermes was a famous trickster. I thought it suited Ayato's personality :P.**

 ***three-headed hound: Cerberus.**

 ***the Woman of Dread: Some believe that Persephone's name means 'the Destroyer'.**


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